


This War, Carry Me Home

by newyorktopaloalto



Category: Original Work
Genre: Class Differences, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Friendship, Getting Together, Historical, Interpersonal Drama, Kingdom politics, Kingdoms and Monarchy, Lack of Communication, Politics, Royalty, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: When Danika Dvorakova had first seen Magdalena Sokolova, she knew that she would do most anything to get close to the queen, previous ambition thrown by the wayside - she made herself known, and the queen showed well enough interest. Zelenka Dvorakova, meanwhile, had always been looking for love - she had not expected Josef Sokolov to have almost given up on the very same.A conspiracy threatens both the kingdom and the rulers' tenuous relationships; past decisions will always determine future outcomes.





	This War, Carry Me Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



> Disclaimer: idea/outline belong to Alley_Skywalker. Everything else is my original work. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope that you enjoy! I had such a great time writing this for you <3

“I believe that Josef has fallen in love.” 

Danika Denisovna Dvorakova continued to braid Magdalena Endarovna Sokolova's hair – the Queen Consort had, for the last hour, been reading the daily reports from the guilds and the Royal Court and, were it not for the fact that Danika had been attending to her, Danika would believe that Magdalena Sokolova had forgotten that she was not alone in her chambers – and kept quiet. It would not take long for Magdalena to continue with her thoughts; Danika had become, despite her relative anonymity within the court, Magdalena Sokolova's confidant, her advisor in some sense, and her lover in every sense. Zelenka Denisovna Dvorakova – Danika's younger sister – had believed Danika to be foolish when she had voiced her opinion in wanting to be one of Magdalena's ladies-in-waiting, believing that she would never find her true happiness in serving. In a sense, Zelenka was correct, as Danika had no real interest in the minutiae of her day-to-day duties – her desire, however, could only be fulfilled in gaining access to the power of the kingdom, and Danika knew this to be within the rooms of Magdalena Sokolova. 

('I want to have a say in my future,' she had said to Zelenka two weeks after they had arrived at court and almost immediately after Danika had met the Queen Consort. 'I do not wish to be a pretty thing, spending my days waiting for a husband and for a fortune to sweep me off of my feet.' 

'Sister,' Zelenka had replied, 'how can you believe you are meant for more when you let yourself reach for less?' 

'It is not reaching for less,' Danika had said, her tone brokering no room for further argument, 'it is reaching for what I can achieve.') 

“He has gone and fallen in love – now he will be hopeless.” 

Magdalena Sokolova then, without thought to where they might land, threw the reports down. They landed, scattering, with a thump and a flutter, and she turned around to face Danika – the pointed-end of Magdalena Sokolova's stare was, as always, heart palpitations waiting to occur – as she entreated a reply. 

“You have been saying,” Danika began, brushing back the few strands of Magdalena's hair that she had not captured in the braid, “that he will be better off for it, have you not?” 

“I did not believe him to be this foolish,” Magdalena said, “he has been shirking his responsibilities in order to see her. We are in negotiations with two of our neighboring kingdoms, and Josef decides that this is an ideal time to go and fall in love?” 

Her question was rhetorical, heated, and something, Danika suspected, that Magdalena Sokolova had been keeping quiet about for far too long a time. Magdalena's frustration was further evidenced by her saying, “Who does he believe himself to be? "When I—” She took a deep breath and slumped into Danika's waiting embrace. Magdalena Sokolova would not let herself take time away from the kingdom when she fell in love, and she had told Danika much the same when they had fallen into bed with one another – Danika did not pretend to believe that Magdalena Sokolova was in love, let alone with _her_ , but she also understood what the queen's intended sentiment had been brought forth by. 

“Have you spoken to Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov about this?” Danika asked, tripping, as always, over using only his name as opposed to the more formal – and more accurate – 'The High and Absolute King, Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov, Great Ruler of the Holy and Ancient Kingdom of Belavana.' Magdalena Sokolova had, during Danika's first month of work, waved away her zealous titling with an ease speaking to a lifetime of both knowing Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov for most of her natural life, and also of her iron will being the last and most important word of any matter her opinion came across. This was one of many things about Magdalena that Danika found herself enamored by: the way that she would always have herself holding the winning hand – the adversary did not matter, nor did the time, because Magdalena Sokolova was both stalwart and patient – and even if their relationship came to a conclusion, Danika knew that she would take the lessons she had learned in this very room and conquer her own little kingdom. 

('When you were a girl, what did you wish to be?' Magdalena had asked her one twilight, their hearts only having had quieted after, due to their physical congress, they had made them race all night. Danika's chest was being used as a pillow, and through the gauzy curtains the encroaching dawn was cutting itself in gold across Magdalena Sokolova's freckled back. 

'A horse,' Danika had said easily in reply, never having had been one to glibly participate in melancholic, post-coital navel-gazing. This had been, as always, one of Danika's wonts. Ever since childhood, Danika's straightforwardness, her no-nonsense answers, to any sort of fantastical question had always been a defining point in her personality. This had, of course, caused tensions between her and Zelenka - between her and anyone she had dared get close to - but she had never wanted to pretend to be the sort of person she could never become. 

'Yes, we all wished this,” Magdalena had said, flicking at Danika's jawline before narrowing her eyes at her. It did not seem to matter to the queen, and Danika felt her shoulders ease from the tense position they had found themselves knotted in. 'What of after?' 

'I wanted to help make this kingdom great.' 

'The princess?' 

The easiest answer would have been 'yes.' Girls of a certain age group, high born or not, had wished in vain to be betrothed to the Crown Prince Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov – he had been spoken for as long as he had been alive, however, to the young daughter of a son of a son of a second wife that Josef Sokolov's great-great grandfather had married after the death of his first: a bloodline that could, if fortunes should fall upon their disfavor, attempt to gain control of the throne, and of the Kingdom of Belavana, itself. Magdalena was born with adversity in her blood, had a will to fight endlessly for something she believed to be hers; the kingdom belonged to Magdalena Sokolova, but it was not _hers_ , and so she would continue on in discontented actions until the day her patience would win out – Danika knew that Magdalena Sokolova's patience would _always_ win out in the end. 

'No,' Danika had said instead, the truth the only thing she could conceivably find herself to come by, caught in the careful gaze of the queen she had willingly – eagerly and loyally, half in love and half in awe – pledged her unyielding fealty and devotion to. Her words trailed off there, tongue not quite able to relay her words intent without misinterpretation, before she gathered what best she could and said, 'I had always intended to be the one she sought counsel from.' 

'Your opinions in the ear of the ruler. Your thoughts lingering in the back of her mind as she goes about her daily business.' It was at the end of that statement that Magdalena Sokolova had kissed her, lingering and languid – in the aftermath, when Magdalena had pulled away only to say, 'My starling, this I can have only the greatest of respect for,' Danika was still breathless.) 

Magdalena Sokolova shook her head against Danika's collarbone, her breaths a hot contrast to the rooms in which Magdalena preferred to keep unlighted in the spring – this preference had been Danika's personal curse in many a night during the late-season snowstorms, but there was also nothing she could she say in the face of Magdalena lifting the covers as she beckoned for Danika's shivering form to join her. 

“I have not spoken with Josef in nearly a week. He has sent his emissary to every meeting as though Ivan Ilyich Ignatov has any control over the Royal Council and the Guild Masters – they turn to me and what am I to do except repeat his second-hand orders? It is insipid, but the only thing that is possible. I do not fault him for falling in love, but he _is_ at fault for my current inefficient ruling practices.

“He is ruining everything, and he cannot even give me time enough to tell him so.” 

The knock on the door interrupted whatever else Magdalena might have opined upon. Danika sat up, pulling a robe onto Magdalena's waiting form, before securing one for herself – despite the fact that Magdalena had always insisted upon them being equals when in their personal time, Danika could not forget who, ultimately and in the long and short of it all, was serving who. Danika was highly aware that she was in the position she had always wished to be in, and how tenuous it could ultimately be – ruling a kingdom was dirty, hard, and oft-unrewarding work; the grace that which Magdalena Sokolova handled her rule was apparent, but this also came along with a bone-deep exhaustion that took its obvious toll by the end of the day, every day, and Danika knew herself to be privileged to be one of a handful of people she trusted enough to show this part of herself to. 

“Yes?” Her voice was the quintessence of her role as 'The Queen Consort Magdalena Endarovna Sokolova of the Holy and Ancient Kingdom of Belavana, wife of The High and Absolute King, Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov, Great Ruler of the Holy and Ancient Kingdom of Belavana.' The tone was incongruous to the way she was combing her fingers through Danika's hair, as though everything about the scene was absolutely normal – which, to be fair to the multitude of servants, emissaries, cooks, advisors, and other miscellaneous staff throughout the palace, their affair was most likely the least scandalous thing they had witnessed in their years serving the royal family. 

“Your Majesty, you told me to inform you when Captain Svoboda and his men entered the city. Advisor Rukovsky is in the Great Hall, awaiting your arrival.” 

“How long ago was this, Tasya?” 

Magdalena stood up from the nest they had made of the covers at some point during the night, and began to dress fully. Danika took a moment to stretch, to enjoy the lines of Magdalena's body as she started working up the various fastenings to her ensemble, before she tied her robe tighter and gestured for Magdelena to turn around – this was one of the duties that she was always happy to perform. 

The conversation between Magdalena Sokolova and Tasya was perfunctory, but Danika still listened with half an ear's worth of interest as she continued to dress her queen. Magdalena was not the usual one to meet with Captain Svoboda at the end of one of their campaigns, but as Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov was most likely in some minor noblewoman's quarters, she was the only one with both the knowledge and the power to make the decision as to whether or not to continue forth with their expansion into the summer, or to simply keep the Greenlands at bay until the growth's next natural cycle. Magdalena, who felt as though the Greenlands were a formidable barrier between their kingdom and any kingdom that may wish to harm them, was duty-bound to continue in her husband's wishes, and would most likely send Captain Svoboda and his men out once more – their progress was slow and the winters tended to make the hand-drawn paths almost completely inaccessible; Magdalena felt as though the talents of the men would be better spent in actual military training, and Danika, who had been listening to Magdalena Sokolova's increasingly worried manner in regard to their neighboring kingdoms, was of the same mind. 

“I will see you this evening, Magdalena,” Danika said, busking a kiss against her cheek as she finished buttoning the top of her collar. With one last smoothing of Magdalena's collar, Danika exited the queen's rooms through its side door – the back staircases and passages were originally used as escape routes out of the palace, but as the years went on and the kingdom became contented, its primary use had been taken up by the palace staff – and made her way, winding, to the rooms she shared with her sister, Zelenka.

* * *

Danika, awoken by a solid knocking at her chamber doors, continued to lay in bed as opposed to getting up to deal with it – the visitor was assured to be one of the court ladies coming for Zelenka, there to gather her along with whoever else would be attending court that day. After a few minutes, however, and with no answer from her sister, Danika called out an 'Enter!' before the door could be knocked upon a second time. 

The door opened, and with it came a, "Zelenka, you foolish child, you are going to be late." 

Stanislava Volodina was a formidable presence in the doorway to their rooms; Danika, who had stood her own against someone of a great deal more import than Stanislava Volodina, was not as intimidated as she presumed the duchess would have preferred. Dressed in heavy brocade, the top of her hair brushing against the top of the frame, and dark eyes heavily ringed with black kohl, Stanislava Volodina folded her arms against her chest and stared down at Danika unflinchingly. Despite the impatience evident in her motions – clearing her throat as she looked at the still unwound grandfather clock set in, statuesque, against the overly large bookcase – Danika took her time in putting on the dressing gown hanging from the four poster. 

It was unusual for Zelenka not to be in their rooms, doubly so if she _knew_ that she was expected somewhere in the morning – unlike Danika, Zelenka was all nervous energy in Stanislava Volodina's presence, which had only been compounded by the fact that Zelenka did not end up marrying the man she had intended for her to. 

('Stanislava Volodina is going to sponsor me,' Zelenka had said to Danika one evening, her voice low as though in response to the lateness of the hour. They were sitting in Zelenka's bed, the fire down to its embers at the far end of the room, and working their way through the fruit and cheese plate that had been brought in by one of the court maids. 

'Is she going to find you a husband?' Danika had teased, knowing that her patronage would be useless to Zelenka, otherwise. 

'She is thinking of her nephew.' Zelenka paused and glanced quickly over to Danika, as though gauging her reaction. Danika did not pretend to know what her face looked like, but her expression must have encouraged Zelenka, as she had said, 'He is going to show his intent at the Founding Ball.' 

'And this is a good thing for you, yes?' Danika had asked – she did not understand her sister's wont, but she also was not going to force her own opinions on Zelenka, not after their father had done that enough for the both of them; Denis Andreevich Dvorakov had done what he believed best for his family, moved them all to their country estate one summer when it seemed as though the kingdom had been preparing for war, and ended up keeping them there so they would not have to wheel and deal with the politicking that went on in a perpetual loop within the Royal Court. What their father did not understand, however - and maybe did not wish to understand - was the simple fact that both of his daughters had aspirations larger than their estate, than marrying a minor nobleman of his choosing and keeping quiet at the very edge of Belavana. Zelenka had wanted a romance, a man she adored and who loved her just as much – Danika had wanted influence, and while she might have went to a larger pond, she made sure to become a bigger fish. 

'It is the best thing, Danika,' Zelenka had said in reply, patting the back of her hand before nudging her with her shoulder. 'Now – I wish to get some sleep, sister, and so I must ask you to leave.')

“Zelenka is not here.” 

Danika looked broadly about the rooms, as though Zelenka might appear from behind a tapestry, before saying, “No, Stanislava Volodina, she does not appear to be here.” Before the duchess could retort – or, more likely, comment upon Danika's supposed uncooperative behavior – Danika continued. “Have you already checked court? She might have gone early.” 

“I have been to court and back, this morning,” Stanislova Volodina replied archly, her nose wrinkling as she took in the scattered books and loose articles of clothing. 

Their rooms were clean enough, especially in the fact that neither Danika nor Zelenka were particularly scrupulous in their regimen, but Stanislava Volodina looked about them as though they had never seen the better end of a washcloth. 

“Zelenka has been behaving oddly these last weeks.” 

“I have not noticed any odd behavior from her,” Danika said, watching closely as the duchess took a prim seat on the edge of the one chaise without the sisters' personal effects already laid upon it. Stanislava Volodina's stare, then, and almost in a split-second, became expecting – Danika, blaming her reaction time in the lack of sleep from the night previous, only then realized what the woman had come into her and Zelenka's rooms in the first place. 

“What do you believe to be the matter?” 

Though Danika might not have been particularly fond of Stanislava Volodina, it was undeniable that she cared for Zelenka as though she were her own – her sister had been new to court and unfailingly earnest, and the duchess had been in court since her childhood, easily and happily navigating the politics that went into its social niceties. She had lost her own daughter during the Sickness, a disease that had swept the kingdom and killed most of what it touched – it was one of the few things that influence and power, that royal blood and royal discretion could not protect them all from. They had both needed the other, and though their relationship had become tenuous in the month and a half since Zelenka had broken off the arrangement with her nephew, the kinship they felt for one another was still plainly evident. 

“I believe that Zelenka Denisovna Dvorakova has fallen in love.” 

It was nowhere near anything Danika had been expecting Stanislava Volodina to say, and she was sure that she did not have enough of a straight face to hide her bemusement at what seemed to be the non-sequitur. 

“Is that not a good thing?” she asked, sitting on the frame of her bed in order to face Stanislava Volodina full-on, her higher position on the bed making it all the easier for her to do so. It was a petty power play, but it did not stop Danika from executing whenever she was able. 

“He is not suitable – Zelenka would have sought my counsel, otherwise. He is a servant, I am sure, or one of the advisors.” Stanislava Volodina shook her head, then, and let a sigh fall from her lips. “She is your sister, Danika Dvorakova and so you must be the one to get her to speak – she loves me, but I am just another old woman to her, not an illicit confidant.”

“And you think I am that?” Danika asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer to her own question. By the knowing gaze she was being given, Stanislava Volodina also understood the question to be unnecessary. Because Zelenka _would_ listen to Danika, would seek out her advice if Danika showed an interest in what was going on with her life, and this was something both Danika and Stanislava Volodina were fully aware of. 

“Why do you wish to know?” Danika continued. 

“I do not wish to see her ruin her life – I have seen it far too many times before, to far too many girls. None of them have been, I think, quite like our dear Zelenka, but I believe the caution to be still quite necessary.

“So, Danika Drovakova, will you help me in this task?” 

Danika nodded, and Stanislava Volodina nodded back – it was as simple an exchange as that.

* * *

The remnants of the frozen winter – only now comfortably far enough away for it to safely be called over – found its way in through the sharp breeze and the weakness in which the sun shone, even at its highest point. Danika found it to be bracing, centering in its chill, and knew at once that this was the perfect location for her to have asked Zelenka to meet at. The hedge garden was overgrown, not quite derelict, but assuredly only minimally attended to, and even then only due to a strict sense of loyalty to the former king; tall, creeping vines had grown thick over the wall in the last years, and their thick roots and twining overgrowth now strangled out the light for the early-blooming flowers - the hedges, as though sensing its competition, had also started to grow into one another, their reach for the sun forming them into long arches, walls of green that became the garden's unintended architecture. 

('This garden was teeming with people, once upon a time,' Magdalena had said as she passed by an overgrown hedge. 'Do you remember this?' 

'Now that my father is dead, no one has to pretend to be interested in it anymore,' Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov had replied, before adding, 'Which brings me to my original question, Magda: why are we here?'

Magdalena turned to Danika and rolled her eyes – Danika kept her expression blank, but by the grin on Magdalena's face, something in her eyes must have given it away. 

'Now, ladies,' Josef Sokolov had said then, noticing their exchange, 'if you are going to poke at me like this, then I must insist on being in on the joke.' He slowed down from where he had been a few feet ahead of them – boundless as always, a twitch in his step and a semi-permanent guileless expression on his face. Despite his open and gregarious tendencies as a ruler, Danika still believed him to be a proficient enough one - especially when he heeded the advice of his wife and advisors. 

'I spoke to you about the idea at our morning counsel, Josef.' 

'Magda, we have cleared grounds, we have no need to use this.' Josef Sokolov had seemed genuinely confused by Magdalena's proposal of building up the land for public use, and her retort of, 'It is not being used, Josef – this is wasted land,' did not clear the matter whatsoever.) 

When summer came, so would the labor to clear out the space – a proposal that had not yet been made public, still being portioned out to the guild heads and the expense accounts – but for now it was a perfect place for a meeting that Danika knew could very well end on a sour note. 

“This seems melodramatic.” 

Zelenka's voice came from directly behind Danika, and she sucked in a breath in lieu of the string of expletives that she almost bit out, heart pounding at her sister's sudden presence. 

“Why?” she demanded after a few moments, her hand still clutching at her chest as she turned to face Zelenka. 

“To humor myself,” Zelenka said in reply, grinning brightly as she dusted off the other side of the bench and sat upon it, prim and with a little flourish that had become one of her affectations at a young age. “Why did you have us meet _here_ , Danika? We have rooms together, sister, you could not have waited until tonight?” 

“Would you have been in our rooms tonight?” Danika asked, dispensing of the stilted pleasantries she had originally planned on opening with. “Or would you be somewhere else?” 

Zelenka blinked. Were her sister anyone else, she might have been able to distract Danika, or think of a lie to tell her – Zelenka was, however, still herself, and her expression was an open-book to Danika. 

“Zelenka...” It was not as though Danika had believed Stanislava Volodina had been mistaken by what had been preoccupying Zelenka's attention, but having the evidence laid out in front of her was the solidification that Danika had not known she needed to fully accept what had been going on. 

“Zelenka, it is not so bad if he is an advisor, or even a high-ranking merchant.” Danika paused, biting her lip, before saying, “Even if it is a laborer, it will not be the worst thing to occur.” 

“That is not...” Zelenka trailed off and, for a moment, looked lost in what she was going to say. “The problem is a different one.” 

(Their rooms were silent, Danika's words falling from her lips before she could stop them. 'The problem is different for me, my sister – being with someone, when you are the other person, it is different than anything you can imagine.' 

'But they do not even love one another – Josef Sokolov knows that you are together with his wife, does he not?' Zelenka, who had initially been horrified as Danika confessed to her affair with Magdalena Sokolova, had quickly understood the nuances of the relationship between the king and the queen. Danika knew that her sister had started to feel for Josef Sokolov, finding it sad that he should have no one when his wife had found someone to love – Zelenka ignored Danika's protests that Magdalena Sokolova did not love her, she just understood Danika's ambition and found it charming. 

'Yes, but Zelenka, that does not matter. This is not something that can be solved – it will always be like this because that is what happens when marriage is involved, a royal marriage most of all.'

Zelenka had looked pained, then, and Danika could almost see the sympathy welling in her sister's eyes. 

'Do not feel sorrow, my sister, for this is what I chose.')

“He is married,” Danika simply said, and felt a horrible sense of relief twist her gut that an inconvenient marriage was the only problem. She had no doubt that Stanislava Volodina would believe a marriage to be an almost insurmountable problem, but she was of an older generation, where more marriages had the luxury to be made in love. 

“He is.” Zelenka's relief was palpable – Danika could not fathom why her sister might believe Danika would judge her for the very thing she, herself, was participating in. 

“Do you love him?” 

“I do – and he, I.” 

There was nothing more to be said, but Danika could not help her 'oh, Zelenka' as she leaned over to hug her. Zelenka's hair caught itself on her face, the wind blowing strands of it into Danika's own hair; a bird, from a hidden nest in one of the hedges surrounding them, made a low warbling sound and was answered by a bird hidden away in another nest; the scent of rain from the earlier storm still lingered in the dirt, musty and fresh in a paradoxical twining. 

“This is what I have chosen, Danika, and I would not do a thing differently had I the choice.” 

“I understand, Zelenka.” Danika pulled herself away, then, and untangled their hair with an efficiency borne from years of practice. “Who is he?” 

“Josef Sokolov,” Zelenka answered promptly, with such ease that it took Danika a moment for the name to ring a bell of familiarity within her mind. 

“Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov?” 

“Yes,” Zelenka said. Her chin was tilted, as though bracing herself for whatever Danika might throw at her. 

Danika sighed. She should have expected something like this - Zelenka had been speaking with the king for a little while now, and they were so alike in personality... Danika felt as though it took her a little too long to see the signs of something that should have been quite obvious to her. “We are two foolish sisters who let their desires take the better of them. This happens, Zelenka. We were never girls to sit, content in waiting – this is not a particularly surprising outcome.” 

“It is not,” Zelenka agreed. 

“But the king, Zelenka?” 

Zelenka laughed as though her turn of fate was not at all something out of the ordinary. “Yes, my sister, Josef, the king.” 

“Zelenka—” Danika stopped herself, before simply deciding to plow on – there was more at stake here than her sister's love life, than any of their love lives. “You must tell him to go back to his duties. It has been long enough and there is an entire kingdom he must rule.” She took Zelenka's hand into her own and looked her sister straight in the eye. “Promise me this, sister.” 

“Yes,” Zelenka said, squeezing Danika's hand with her usual heavy force. “I will tell him tonight.” 

And, though it was a little thing, Danika felt a small sense of accomplishment in managing to help Magdalena Sokolova, her queen.

* * *

Danika approached the queen's rooms from the side entrance, fighting against herself and almost out of time to be able to do so. Telling Magdalena that her sister was the one who had captured the king's heart was the loyal thing to do, but Danika also knew that it was nowhere near her secret to tell – despite knowing that Magdalena would do no such thing, she could not help the unease that revealing such a thing would cause a problem for Zelenka when push came to inevitable shove. So lost in her own rumination, Danika was poised to and about to open the door, when she heard voices from within Magdalena Sokolova's chambers. She managed to just stop herself from entering into the rooms without a proper warning to the queen and whoever she was meeting with. 

“—for the best, Maxim, but then again, I do not think we have another choice.” 

Despite her better self, Danika could not help herself from listening in on Magdalena and Advisor Rukovsky's conversation. Ambition, she had always been told, would always get the best of her - she did not like to prove them incorrect, now. 

“What if we are presented with another choice? Will you take that one, or will you continue on in this vein?” 

“I would take it – I only want what is the best for this kingdom, and if Josef can manage...” There was a pause and a rustle of someone moving about the room. “I will give it more time, like you have advised. But I am getting impatient, and so are our allies.” 

There was more to the conversation, but it had become too low for Danika to hear, and so she knocked to announce her presence. 

“Yes, come in, Danika.”

Maxim Rukovsky was gathering up a bundle of papers when Danika entered the suite. He inclined his head towards her and offered a greeting and a goodbye all in one. Before he left, he gave Magdalena a significant look, to which she only acknowledged with a ghost of a smile. 

“Remember my advice, my queen.” 

“Of course, Maxim,” Magdalena said, gesturing for Danika to take a seat. “We shall finish this discussion at a later date.” 

He left silently, and Magdalena waited until the echo of his footsteps receded fully before she spoke. “How much did you hear of our conversation, my darling?” 

“Only the very end of it,” Danika said, unable to lie to Magdalena. 

“Then you must be wondering what we were speaking of.” 

Danika was doing just that, of course, but by the tired look in Magdalena Sokolova's eye, she was not quite sure she actually wanted to know. Until she had gotten closer with the queen, Danika had never thought there would be something that she would be invited to know, and it would be something she considered might be worth not knowing. 

“Yes,” Danika said after a few moments, standing up to make her way to the chaise that Magdalena had thrown herself into in a fit of pique. “But I understand if it is not for me to hear.” 

“Anything is for you to hear, my Danika, and this is not an exception.” 

Magdalena pulled Danika half on top of her and sighed into her hair. The room was quiet excepting the fire, a concession to the brisk evening that surprised Danika – their breaths, after a while, synchronized. One of Magdalena's hands carded through her hair, untangling it as gently as she was able as she worked her fingers across and over Danika's scalp. Danika, a little helpless in the face of Magdalena's ministrations, felt herself relax. 

“Before we go into this, however, I believe that you have something to tell me? I am getting that feeling, but do tell me if I am incorrect.” 

And before she could stop it, her certitude in Magdalena, in knowing that she could do nothing less, overrode the caution she felt in sharing Zelenka's secret. “I know who Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov has been in liaison with.” 

Magdalena nodded, and said, “Yes, I too know who he has been meeting.” 

“How did you—” Danika started to ask, before thinking better of herself. 

“My husband told me just a few hours ago.” Magdalena's vague distaste was replaced, then, with a small smile. She arched her neck up to kiss Danika, the tip of her tongue flicking out against the seam of her lips for a moment, before she pulled back. 

“Thank you for telling me – you did not have to, I would not have known that you met with your sister about this. Your loyalty, however, I will not forget.”

It was doubtful that Magdalena Sokolova's tone was anything more than an appreciative admiration, a fondness, even an emotional closeness, but in the back of Danika's mind she allowed herself to take it as something deeper; it was something in Magdalena's eyes – serious and unblinking as she ran her thumb, slowly, across Danika's left eyebrow – as she said it that made Danika feel as though something like love was not completely hopeless for her.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Magda.” 

Josef Dmitriyevich Sokolov was tired. The arguments he and his wife had were always about matters regarding the kingdom, and they were important matters, to be sure, but they all stemmed from a long-standing point of contention: they had vastly contrasting ideas about what it meant to be a ruler. Josef had always understood that he was not the type of person to thrive upon overseeing the kingdom's minutiae, and his father had understood that as well – Josef's advisors were trustworthy, loyal, and hand-picked by his father in the last few months of his life. Magda, however... Josef knew that his wife had a different notion of what befitted royalty, and of what was expected in their roles as the kingdom's source of power. 

Sometimes Josef imagined himself in a life where he wasn't royalty – he doubted that Magda did the same. 

“Josef,” Magda said, “you know that I love you.” She paused, rubbing at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “You are not making the right decision.” 

“I know that you believe that to be true,” Josef replied. He did not know why he continued to argue with her – one of them would wear out and dispose themselves of the matter, and neither of them would be particularly happy about the end outcome. “I have all my advisors, however, telling me the opposite, and I agree with their warnings – force is not necessary as of yet and, in fact, may make tensions with our allies worse.” 

“Fine, Josef.” 

And there was the capitulation. Josef was a little surprised, having had thought that it would take longer – but this was one thing he would not back down upon, and Magda must have understood that. Josef wondered, wanting it to be true more than he let on, if she was getting tired of always having this fight, as well. “We will do it the way of your _committees_.” 

And maybe it was something in her voice, in the way she had been carrying herself since the moment she had walked in through his doors, because without warning Josef felt compelled to say, “Magda, if you go to the meetings, listen to the advisors, share your own ideas, maybe we can make these things easier for the both of us.” 

“You have final say in all matters.” It was the truth, and though Josef suspected that Magda had meant it to be biting, he could not see it that way. 

“Yes, but you have a large sway – Rodya tells me these things. We cannot go about this alone, we do not have the knowledge about every part of our kingdom. Nor, I believe, is it a realistic feat.” 

He sighed, then, unbuttoning his over shirt before making his way to the half-empty bottle of wine. Magda shook her head when he offered her a glass. “Just because I must mark my name, does not make your contribution any less than my own.” 

(They had been arguing, both primed for the trigger to explode, when Josef had realized Magda's true contention. 

'You cannot go into a meeting and simply expect your will to be done, my wife.' 

'And why not?' Magda had asked. 'Both the advisors and I know what must be done – I am simply taking out the time they would otherwise spend arguing about the matter.' 

'Have you considered, Magda, that you could be wrong?' 

She had paused in her pacing to turn to him, lips pursed but her expression otherwise blank. Josef, never a dutiful student to understanding the complexity of facial expressions, was not able to interpret what the blank look meant, but had the lingering suspicion that it was something she would wave away, if asked about. They might have loved one another, and had known each other since the beginnings of their memories, but they had not been confidants for years – they did not understand one another well enough, anymore, and it might have been their own fault for lack of trying, but it was neither something that Josef could do anything about, nor something Magda could force herself to forget. 

'I am not wrong about this.' 

Josef let the matter go – this was just another issue, and he had believed that they had the time to deal with later.)

* * *

A fire had already been lit and heavily attended to by the time Josef managed to make his way into his second set of rooms – they had been his and his sister's rooms, once upon a time, but they had lain empty since they had grown out of their childhood things and into the trappings of adulthood: Yelena to her betrothed, and Josef to his. 

“Difficult night?” 

He smiled down at Zelenka, waiting on the bed with a book on her lap, and shook his head. “Just a normal one, my love.”

“So, exceedingly difficult,” Zelenka teased, patting the spot beside her in supplication. Josef did not hesitate in making his way over, landing beside Zelenka in what he would readily admit as a slump. 

“Yes, something like that,” he said. 

It had been a fortnight since he had told Magda of his relationship with Zelenka, and Josef was still questioning whether or not that had been the wisest choice. Magda had not acted substantially differently than she had before, but Josef felt as though she was keeping an eye on him in a way that she had previously not – he had no evidence of this, of course, but there was no other reasonable explanation as to how she had gotten information she would otherwise have no knowledge of. Magda told Josef that he had been lacking in his duties – more so than she usually accused him of being – and that falling in love had made worse a personality trait that she had believed to be previously manageable. And while Josef understood her frustration, her intractable need to be all she could for the kingdom, he did not see how the last few weeks had been all that monumentally different than all the years previous, all the fights that had been borne by their lack of cohesion as a pair.

“Josef?” 

Zelenka had started to wend her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck at some point in his troubling thoughts, and he silently cursed himself for his lack of attention to the present. Josef had promised himself that he would not bring politicking into his relationship with Zelenka, the one thing in his life that he did not feel the press of the kingdom against his every movement. It was an untenable position, but it was one he would try to keep for as long as he conceivably could.

“I am sorry, my Zelenka.” Josef leaned over to kiss her, both an attempt to further his apology and a desire he could not believe he did not partake in immediately. “You are correct, this night _was_ difficult.” 

“Do not be sorry, Josef, I understand your responsibilities.” 

She did not, but Josef knew it was only a matter of time until she did. 

It was a fool's-errand for Josef to actually think that he could shield Zelenka from the intricacies of being entangled with a king just because he did not want her involved; keeping her away and in the dark might do their relationship more harm than good – Josef knew that Magda told Danika Dvorakova most of the inner workings of the kingdom, and it was doubtless that Danika Dvorakova, in turn, told her sister what she knew. 

('Do you believe this—' Josef had indicated between the two of them, '—will be a problem to your relationship with your sister?' It was a cold evening, with winter still heavy in the air, and the relationship between the two of them still new enough to warrant the question. There were glasses of wine in their hands as they shared, offering one another coy bites from their fingertips, a plate of fruit brought up by one of the servants. 

Zelenka laughed before shaking her head. 'It would not do her well, considering.' 

But she was distant the rest of the night, and Josef understood that despite her cavalier words, she was worried. Danika Dvorakova was a tough woman to crack – Josef believed this to be one of the reasons that her relationship with Magda worked as well as it did – and her motives were often labyrinthine in their end goals, so it would not surprise him should she find fault in what her sister was currently engaged in.) 

“How is your sister?” 

Zelenka blinked at the non-sequitur, tilting her head as she tried to glean where Josef was coming from. After a moment it seemed to click, and Josef could not help the flush of shame at his heavy-handed interrogation. 

“She has not imparted upon me anything regarding your wife,” Zelenka said, looking at him with such an inscrutable expression on her face that Josef felt he had asked her the one question she had been secretly hoping that he would not. “And I do not believe that she would.

“Josef, I know that things are difficult for you at this moment, I know the kingdom is going through troubles with our neighbors, but you must know that I am always on your side, my love – should I hear anything about Magdalena Sokolova, I will tell you post haste.” 

She paused as though considering something. “This is, I think, why Danika does not tell me things that she knows, anymore.” 

“I am sorry that it is like this - I know you and your sister...” He did not finish his statement, but he felt as though he did not need to - Zelenka knew exactly what he was attempting to say. 

“It is not us, Josef, who are at fault for this.” 

Her vehemence, on the verge of bordering on anger, startled Josef – her relationship with Danika must have been more fraught with contention than Zelenka had let him in on, and he wondered at its cause – and he almost drew away from her in shock. 

“What are you saying, Zelenka?” 

“Magdalena Sokolova, and with her, my sister, are the ones who have ambitions that they would do most anything to achieve. I love my sister, but I worry that she is getting into something she does not truly understand.” 

She sighed, but after a moment pulled herself together – Josef was, as always, amazed at her resolute equanimity – and smiled up at him. 

“Let us speak of lighter things,” she said, before soundly kissing him.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“You wished to see me, my king?” Danika bowed, a little more obsequious than she imagined Josef Sokolov to believe it coming from sincerity, before taking the seat he offered her. 

“Yes, Danika, and I thank you for coming in – I know my wife keeps your schedule busy.” Despite herself, Danika could not help answering the almost conspiratorial grin he sent her way. 

“Zelenka told me that you now know of our relationship.” 

“I do, Josef Sokolov,” Danika said. It was a little more familiar than Danika's usual approach, but she figured that she had some right to, now – before, she was only the woman having an affair with his wife, and now she was the sister to the woman he, himself, was having an affair with. It was a strange situation to be in, but Danika was not surprised that she and Zelenka were in the thick of the entire thing. 

('Do you believe we will find happiness, Danika?' 

She looked down at Zelenka, who was holding out her hand for a firefly to land on – it would not be long, Danika knew, until her sister's desire came true – and nodded. 

'It will be complicated, and maybe difficult,' she had started, already old enough to know that a perfect relationship could never exist, 'but I think, if you work hard at it, our happiness will be truly magnificent.') 

“And you told Magda.” 

Danika nodded and said, “You had already told her.” 

“Zelenka thought it for the best to get everything out in the open.” He did not have to say 'unlike you and my wife', nor did he even have to imply it, because it was something Danika understood to be completely unnecessary to mention – it had happened, he had found out, and it had only furthered the distance between Josef Sokolov and Magdalena. Their secret was not the impetus for Magdalena's machinations, but the nature of their reveal might have been the straw that had broken the horse's back. 

“Do you love her?” Because Zelenka might have believed it to be true, but that did not mean that Danika did not want to hear it for herself. 

“I do. I never thought that someone could—” he stopped himself, shaking his head, “—I never believed that I could feel this way.

“You must understand this feeling, Danika.” 

She did – she might not have wanted to, believed it to be a snag in an otherwise solid plan, but she absolutely understood what Josef Sokolov meant.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Magdalena paced the small office – twelve steps to the far wall and twelve steps back to the door – with increasing fervor at the lateness of Maxim Rukovsky's arrival to their meeting. He should have been there an hour previously, news of Captain Svoboda and his men at the ready. Josef, against both her and Maxim's wishes, had listened to the counsel of his advisors and had extended their work in the Greenlands – Magdalena could not see this as anything more than sheer stupidity, especially in light of the fact that their neighboring kingdoms had been pulling slowly away from Belavana since the last round of inter-kingdom negotiations. But Josef, as always, would do as he wished, giving Magdalena only the most cursory of thought as he cavorted with his absolute power and his councils, too open-natured to skillfully rule without help. Josef, to both bless and curse the man, believed this to be a desirable trait in a monarch – Magdalena understood that this only left him open to betrayal. 

The side door opened and, with a look over his shoulder to see if anyone else was in the back passages – Magdalena presumed that he had done so every ten steps, pragmatic and paranoid to his very core – Maxim Rukovsky entered the office. 

“I apologize for my tardiness, my queen,” he said, giving her his usual perfunctory bow, “but I was waylaid by the king.” 

“For what purpose?” 

He paused. To most people it would have been imperceptible, but Magdalena had not spent her formative years studying human behavior to not notice the little tics people unintentionally let out. She narrowed her eyes, ready for whatever lie he was about to spin her; the lie was sure to be pretty, to be almost exactly what she wanted to hear, but Magdalena knew it would be empty. 

“He had questions about the new regulations regarding the Miners' Guild.” 

The answer was unexpected, and for a brief moment Magdalena wondered if she had been incorrect in her assumptions. 

“What were his questions?” 

('Why did you wish for a meeting, my queen?' Maxim Rukovsky had asked her, the note she had sent him going up in flames as he held it against one of the candles. 'We have our daily one in the morning, after all.' 

He did not say that her use of a cryptic note was unusual, bordering on concerning, behavior for her, but then again, he did not have to say it – Magdalena understood the queer nature of her request, but she did not feel as though a warning would have helped her cause any. 

'You were in the meeting with the builders this afternoon, were you not?' Magdalena had tried to phrase the question as a mere inquiry, but understood that Maxim would take it with her intent – the beginning of an interrogation. 

'Yes, I put your counter-proposals through. The advisors seemed pleased with your directive.' His reply was speculative, more about gauging her reaction than the words, themselves. 

'Did Josef ask any questions about the specifications?' 

Josef would not listen to her – she had given him, she believed, a considerable number of chances to let her take the reins to the kingdom, but he had seemed contented enough to let the advisors place him in the role of a veritable figurehead, and seemed to be a happy enough one, at that. That was not to say that Magdalena did not understand the necessity of having experienced members to make up a council of advisors, but she knew that Josef was making a mistake in placing as much power over to them as he did. 

'No, my queen.' Maxim paused, then, and gave her a once-over. Both Magdalena and Maxim Rukovsky understood what was to come next. 'Would you like for me tell you if he does?' 

'That would be beneficial to me, Maxim,' Magdalena had said in reply. 

'Of course, my queen. Whatever it is you need.' 

Yes, Josef was being foolish – Magdalena was able to sway Maxim Rukovsky into spying on the king for easily, which meant that there were deeper issues in the kingdom than advisors taking leeway when they should not. 

Magdalena needed to show Josef that her warnings were correct, that his distance would be the fall of the kingdom – she now had that first, necessary spark.

'Good,' she had said, smiling down at Maxim. 'Now, let us begin.') 

“He was inquiring as to whether or not the employment contract was beneficial for both the worker and the Guild.”

Magdalena raised an eyebrow – she might have believed Maxim, once upon a time, and had she and Josef not delved into this argument earlier in the evening. Maybe their communication _had_ been getting better. “What did he believe?”

“That it gave too much leeway for the worker to abuse the system already put into place by his grandfather.”

“He brought his legacy into it, then?” Magdalena asked lightly, wondering how Maxim had gotten so complacent in his lies that he thought them so easily believed as they fell off of his tongue. 

“Yes, my queen. The advisors,sycophants to the Crwon such as they are, agreed with him the moment he did so.” 

“Maxim,” Magdalena said, tilting her head down to look him in the eye as she leaned close into him, “you have been lying to me.” 

Maxim Rukovsky went white – Magdalena tried not to smile too much at his discomfort. She could not believe how long it had taken her to realize that Maxim Rukovsky had played her like a fool, and she had been so bent on playing her cards right that she had missed the obvious bluffs from the player to her left - but now she knew, and now it was time. 

“What was your other choice your king, Maxim?” 

He did not have to say it, his intent clear in his unfaltering stare. After a moment of silence she tilted her head, eyes wide as though in consideration. “Would you kill me? After my husband, I mean.” 

“Of course not. You would rule, my queen. Absolute.” 

Magdalena smiled and patted his cheek with a light touch. 

“Good man.” She cracked her knuckles against his jaw, gaze boring into his as he flinched back. “Now that you have been honest with me, Maxim, what did my husband actually say?” 

And he told her everything, Magdalena made absolutely certain of it.

* * *

“Magda?” 

From her place on the balcony, she turned to face Josef. 

“Yes, Josef?” she asked, unsure as to whether or not she wanted to hear out what he had to say, or if she wanted to simply delve into the argument she knew would be forthcoming. 

“I would ask to seek your advice on an issue regarding the kingdom.” 

He seemed nervous, and Magdalena wondered whether it was because the advice he sought would be displeasing to her sensibilities, or because he was simply reluctant to ask for her advice, considering their tenuous relationship – Magdalena did not like to think of the ache it still caused her for them to be on such poor terms. Soon enough, however, all would be well enough – for everyone. 

(She had been thirteen, reading a history book in a small clearing, her horse tied to a tree near a creek, when Josef – eleven, already bounding and effervescent, her best friend – clamored through the trees, face smudged in dirt and no sign of the guard that usually accompanied him on his misadventures. 

'What brings you here, Josef?' she had asked, placing a ribbon into the book as a marker. Josef looked down then, hesitant, as he scuffed the toe of his shoe into the dirt. 

'We just got back from the estate.' It ended on a questioning note, his eyes boring into her own as though he were expecting something. 

'Yes, and I am gladdened to see you back,' Magdalena had said, knowing what he was hoping for, and deciding to tease him a bit, first. 

'Magda,' Josef had whined, 'you promised.' 

Magdalena smiled and patted at the grass beside her. 'Yes, I did – and so I shall.

'Now,' she had continued, once Josef had settled next to her, 'where was our intrepid hero since last we visited him?' 

'On the ship – he just got captured by pirates.' 

And Magdalena continued to spin him a tale.)

Josef went out to the balcony to stand next to Magdalena, leaning back against the rail as he looked up to the darkening sky. They were quiet, but they were trying – Magdalena was trying, and Josef... Well, for a very long time she had not wanted to see that Josef had always been trying. 

“Do you remember when we were children - the stories you used to tell me in the woods?”

Magdalena just barely caught herself from telling him that she had been thinking of exactly that, that she had been thinking of their childhood camaraderie and how to regain it once more, so she could speak with him and have him _understand_. Instead she nodded and said, “Yes, of course I remember.”

Josef grinned at her – Magdalena, a little helpless, could not help but smile back.

“Those are some of my fondest memories, Magdalena Sokolova.”

It was silent, then, for a few moments; the breeze was warm – spring was slowly turning into summer, and the rains had petered out until all that was left was its verdant offspring and the now stilling atmosphere – and a steady drone of insects was juxtaposed against the croaking of toads.

“They are some of mine, as well, Josef Sokolov.” 

She almost told him, then, about what she had been working on, the deceptions she had been stumbling upon the deeper she got into the politics of the royal court, but she knew it was not yet time – Josef would do nothing about the matter until he had no choice but to confront it. And Magdalena? Knew that she could force him to do exactly that. 

“What do you need advice about, Josef?” she asked instead, going to the ledge of the balcony to lean back against the rail, as well. She turned her head sideways to look at him, already more at ease around him than she had been in a long while. 

“For the 168th regiment.” 

By the look on Josef's face, he had caught Magdalena's surprise. “I listen to you, Magda, and many times I agree with you.” He sounded tired, older than his years, and as Magdalena looked him over, his brows heavy and his jaw tight, she wondered when Josef had grown up. 

“This is what I would do,” Magdalena started, before proceeding to give him the outline she had been working on for the last few nights.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Half of the candles were blown out, the rest forming a soft glow that Danika found the perfect atmosphere to read in, when the doors to her and Zelenka's rooms slammed open. For a moment, the reverberations from the door hitting the stone wall was the only sound, before another slam – Danika presumed this one to be a closing of the door, with just as much force – followed after a short moment. It could only have been Zelenka. Danika was halfway out of the bedroom when Zelenka entered, arms akimbo and halfway between rage and despondency. 

“What has happened, Zelenka?” Danika asked, rushing over the last few feet to where her sister was standing so still she was almost vibrating. 

“Did you speak with Stanislava Volodina about me?” 

“Just the once,” Danika said instantly, wondering what in the world had happened – Zelenka had never sounded like this before, tightly held control and bristling anger bubbling over into a vituperative hiss. “She was worried about you and that is why I had us meet – I would not have thought you to be in a relationship had she kept silent about her worry.” 

“Are you lying to me, Danika? You did not speak with her after, telling her that I was with Josef?” 

Danika shook her head, mind whirling as she tried to piece together what was happening. Stanislava Volodina would not have been happy to find out the true cause of Zelenka's newly discovered short-attention for anyone not named Josef Sokolov, and Danika found it unlikely that the duchess would have kept quiet about it. 

“Next I saw her, I was going to tell her that I had found out nothing of import.” She paused then, before grabbing Zelenka's shoulders. “My sister, what happened?” 

('If you had to choose between Magdalena and Zelenka, who would you choose?' Josef Sokolov had asked her. 

'Who would you?' Danika shot back. 

Neither of them answered as they continued their game of gin rummy.) 

“Stanislava Volodina will have nothing to do with me – she has told her friends to do the same.” Zelenka buried her face in Danika's neck, and Danika could do nothing but hold her as she started to weep. “At the very least, she did not say as to why.” 

Danika, however, thought that in many ways them not knowing, being able to make baseless speculation without anyone nay-saying them, was worse.

* * *

* * *

* * *

One of Josef's advisors was planning something. 

This was not the sort of thing that Zelenka would have usually noticed, but she found that with Josef, she noticed everything – Advisor Rukovsky was most assuredly not Josef, but he was around him enough that Zelenka had considered him almost part background. So when he started acting strangely, slipping in and out of court, in and out of Josef's rooms when he believed Zelenka to be slumbering - the time she had found him, wide-eyed and clutching papers in Josef's office - Zelenka could not deny that he was participating in something that Josef had no knowledge of. 

It was this, coupled with the fact that both Josef and Danika had seemed more on edge than usual, that made Zelenka say something. And maybe it was not the best idea for her to circumvent speaking with Josef, himself, but Zelenka believed she would get a better understanding should she go elsewhere. 

“And that is why I have come to you, my queen,” Zelenka finished, eyes lowered to the floor as though she had never left her bow. 

('I do not know why she is with me – what she gains from our continuing liaisons.' Danika had sounded defeated, though Zelenka believed her sister did not think she could hear it in her tone. Danika had always wanted to be strong, to be a pillar, but Zelenka knew that she was still as weak as the rest of them – she wished that Danika would let herself feel that vulnerability for once in her life, instead of hiding it away, but she also knew that that was simply not in Danika's nature. 

'Have you considered that she might have simply just fallen in love with you?' Danika snorted but, before she could retort, Zelenka continued with, 'Despite your overbearing, no-fun personality, of course.' 

Danika made a 'tch' sound in the back of her throat, but did not seem to mind the teasing. 

'Or maybe she finds pleasure in it – I do not wish to delve that deeply into your relationship, my sister.'

' _Zelenka_.' She was laughing, though, and Zelenka thought that a better look for her than sadness could ever be.) 

“Thank you for the information, Zelenka Dvorakova, this is—” she paused and tilted her head, nostrils flaring a little, “—good to know.” Magdalena Sokolova looked as tired as Josef and Danika, as though the three shared a secret that they believed Zelenka unaware of. But she was aware of the overarching issue– not of it all, and definitely not the motivating factors – and though she could not do much to help the situation, she felt as though she needed to do something. For the happiness of everyone. 

“Magdalena Sokolova, do you love my sister?” Zelenka knew that her question was impertinent, that despite her relationship with Josef, angering his wife was no small matter, considering their stations. 

“That is a very good question, Zelenka Dvorakova, and one that I can understand you wish the answer to.” She smiled then, but Zelenka was not sure what it meant. 

“But you will not give me the answer?” Zelenka asked. 

“If you had to choose between Danika and Josef, who would you choose?” 

Their names mixed together on the tip of her tongue, and Zelenka knew she would not be able to answer the queen. She nodded, as though she had expected Zelenka to fish for an answer and come up with nothing time and time again. Zelenka blushed, embarrassment coursing through her veins as she looked up at the perfectly composed wife of the love of Zelenka's life. 

She took a breath, knowing that if she were going to be bold, she should not stop right before the tipping point. “Who would _you_ choose?” 

Magdalena Sokolova shrugged – Zelenka had the answer she needed, the answer she had wanted, but it did not quiet her nerves in any manner. The queen was in love with Zelenka's sister, and Zelenka with the king. Something was afoot in the kingdom, and they were all keeping secrets. 

Zelenka did not know how this would end, but she was afraid that she would be forced to choose a side.

* * *

The garden, teeming with wildlife, was deserted of its human counterparts – Zelenka wended her way through the overgrown paths as she hummed one of the songs Danika used to sing to her when they were children. Music had never been paramount in their lives, but there was something in the melodies that seemed apropos for a spring afternoon. A little mournful, maybe, in the still air, slow and sweet and pounding – she did not remember the words, but also did not feel them important. A bumblebee landed on her shoulder and stayed there even as Zelenka continued to walk. 

A branch crunched down behind her, and Zelenka swung around to see who was there – Maxim Rukovsky leaned against a tree as though there was nothing in his life that troubled him. Despite the fact that Zelenka knew Rukovsky would do nothing to so openly harm her, she still felt her body start to react as though a threat were nearby – muscles tensing, sweat gathering at the back of her neck, and words of excuse from the garden gathering at the tip of her tongue. He did not make to move closer, just crossed his arms as he watched her. Finally, against her better nature, Zelenka closed the distance. 

“What brings you here, Maxim Rukovsky? It is an assuredly nice afternoon, but I do not usually see you outside of the castle walls.” 

“I only go where I am ordered to – I have been ordered here,” Rukovsky said. 

He was angling for Zelenka to take his words a particular way – she could see anticipation in his eyes, waiting for her to give a reaction that would help him in whatever plan he was attempting to implement – but there had been nothing he said that was of particular surprise to Zelenka. 

Deciding, then, however, that playing off of his already formulated views as to her person would be more helpful than making him shoot straight, Zelenka asked, “Because of me?” 

“The queen has asked me to keep an eye on you.” 

Zelenka blinked. It made sense for Magdalena to do that, she supposed, but she wondered why Rukovsky told her at all. He was a secretive man at the best of times, which meant that there was motive behind his carefully chosen words. 

“I am not surprised,” Zelenka said, “considering what she now knows about myself and Josef.” 

A flash of disappointment went through Rukovsky's eyes; Zelenka wondered if he was not a particularly adept liar in general, if he thought he did not have to keep a blank face around Zelenka, or if she had simply grown better at reading people and using it to her advantage. The latter was not a particularly easy thought, as Zelenka was not usually that sort of person – Danika had always taken care of those things for her, even if her older sister did not believe Zelenka to know of the incidents at all. But this time the onus was on Zelenka to do something about the matter. 

“Tell Magdalena Sokolova that I am going to speak to Josef about this,” Zelenka said, knowing that he most likely would do no such thing. 

“The queen would not like to hear that,” Rukovsky said in reply, his mouth twisting on a hidden grin. He was goading Zelenka, but she was more than happy to swallow the bait. 

“Then tell her nothing – I will still inform Josef.” 

“Do as you feel you must, Zelenka Dvorakova.” 

Zelenka smiled – they might have been having two separate conversations, but the endgame would be the same. 

“You as well, Maxim Rukovsky.” 

He left, then – with his threat delivered, Rukovsky had no reason to be there. 

('I have been communicating with my wife recently,' Josef had said one night, the moon shining in from the window they had kept uncovered as they enjoyed its ambiance. 

'I have noticed.' Zelenka paused and smoothed her fingers against his collarbone. 'How is it working out for you?' 

'Well,' Josef had said after a few moments, a lightness in his tone when speaking of Magdalena Sokolova that had not been there for the entire time that Zelenka had known him. 'It went well. There is still something she is keeping quiet, but I believe we are on a path to harmony.' 

'That is very good, then.')

* * *

“Is Maxim Rukovsky planning something against Josef?” 

Zelenka's outburst did not seem to surprise Magdalena Sokolova, and she beckoned for Zelenka to sit on the chair at the other side of her desk. The office was nowhere near as ornate as Zelenka had expected it to be – somewhere where you felt as though by simply moving, you could break some priceless artifact or smudge an antique painting – was, indeed, more reserved than many of those in the court. Looking at Magdalena Sokolova, however, her presence enough to suck the air out of a room, and the lack of gilt made sense. 

“Do you wish to help this kingdom, Zelenka Dvorakova? Do you wish to help Josef and your sister?” 

Zelenka nodded. 

“Then I will tell you – but you cannot tell my husband, is this clear? Not until after all is said and done.” 

It was a hard promise to make, but as Zelenka shook Magdalena Sokolova's hand, she felt it was the only thing to do that would make any sense.

* * *

* * *

* * *

“Why did you wish to speak with me, Josef Sokolov?” 

He was standing against a balcony, looking up at the sky with an almost boyish wonder on his face, but he turned serious the moment Danika spoke. It was later than any meeting she had previously had with Josef Sokolov, and Danika felt correct in her unease. 

“Did you have plans with Magda this evening?” 

Danika nodded, but after a moment said, “She had to cancel them, however – there are lingering issues regarding the trade embargo.” She paused in light of his blank expression. “Are there not?” 

“There are not,” Josef said. He ran a hand through his hair, crunching the top in his fist in a moment of frustration – Danika resisted the urge to smooth it back into place. After a long moment, he said, “Zelenka has been having meetings with Magda for the last week.” 

Danika laughed. “Excuse me?” 

The thought was absurd – Zelenka would have no reason to meet with Magdalena, there were no plans of the queen's that could fit her sister into them. There was nothing at all, except... 

Danika closed her eyes and tried to hide her sharp inhale in a cough. 

('I am going to stage a coup.' 

Magdalena's tone was blunt, but the words themselves were a hammer. 

'A what?' 

'Do not pretend to be simple, Danika, it does not suit you.' Magdalena had then started to undo her hair from its braid, only glancing through the mirror to Danika – still frozen, mind whirling at speeds she did not believe possible – once or twice during the process. 

'Why?' 

'Because Josef must learn that the way he is running this kingdom is good in theory, but has proven insufficient in its execution. The advisors are running amok and while their ideas are for the kingdom on the surface, they are also decidedly more than a little self-serving. More than one of them takes 'donations' from groups to better serve their interests in council sessions, and there are many who, I believe, would commit treason at the drop of a hat.' 

'But _you_ would be committing treason.' 

Magdalena had waved Danika's concern away. 'I will be doing no such thing. Someone else will – I will simply be revealing the traitors to the throne. It ferrets out those who would do the kingdom harm, and it also makes Josef aware that his current system of rule is no longer working.' 

Josef, Danika believed, would be hard-pressed in ruling a kingdom by actually ruling it – most of his decisions would be placed on Magdalena, making her the one with the power, with the promise of betterment of the kingdom in her hands. She hoped that Magdalena understood exactly what she was doing, that she was prepared to deal with whatever may come in the future. Because Danika was only tangentially a part of this scheme, and she was nowhere near prepared – even if the thought was a nice one.) 

Zelenka was not someone who would do the kingdom harm, and the court – vapid though they were – would be forced to suspend their disbelief when presented with Zelenka Dvorakova as a conspirator. It would be below Magdalena to bear false witness, especially about someone whose love belonged to both Magdalena's husband and her lover. It was absolutely preposterous to believe Magdalena was setting Zelenka up for the fall. And yet – Zelenka had seemed different, lately, and far off from the woman in a happy daze that she had been wrapped in since the start of her relationship with Josef Sokolov. 

She could not believe that Magdalena would do such a thing. She could not believe that, even if Magdalena was planning on something like that, Zelenka would not see through her role to play. 

“Between the two of us, we should be able to ascertain what is happening between the two of them,” Danika finally said, wanting to see Magdalena's plans through, but unwilling to take the chance of her sister being thrust in the middle – Magdalena said they were all headed for the same end goal, but Danika felt as though she were making a choice.

Josef Sokolov looked surprised – Danika could not help but think it warranted, considering their usual interactions. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because I love them both.” It was the first time Danika had admitted that she was, indeed, irrevocably in love with Magdalena Sokolova. The feeling of freedom fizzled out quickly, but the fact that she felt it at all was what mattered most to her. 

“As do I,” Josef said, placing his hand on Danika's shoulder. “And it is because of that, that I must ask you this: what do you know of Maxim Rukovsky?” 

Danika warred with herself, knowing that her better sense was going to lose, but trying to keep the information in, regardless. If she said something, that would be the end – Josef Sokolov was many things, but stupid was not one of them, and he would figure it all out readily enough when given that last puzzle piece – but if she did not, there would unlikely be an end in sight, and when one came, it would not be an easy victory for anybody. It would be giving up a lot, both for her personal and professional prospects, but Danika knew that some things would be lost no matter what plan was implemented – at least this way, she would able to keep both Zelenka, and Zelenka's happiness. 

Danika had never been meant for that life, for any of it, anyway. 

“I know he is helping to plan a coup. I know that other council members are in on his plot.” She paused to take a breath, an attempt to buy herself the time she needed in order to force herself to betray Magdalena. It did not matter that what Danika was doing was for the good of everyone involved, she was still going against the express wishes of the woman she had pledged her undying loyalty to – and though there was still loyalty in saving the woman she loved from the harm she could cause, it was also a deep betrayal, one that Danika did not in any way believe they could come back from. 

“I know that Magdalena is the leader of the plot – she wishes to find out those who would betray you, because there are many of them, and she wants to show you that your way of ruling is inefficient and leads to corruption.” It was tangled – Danika did not know if Josef Sokolov understood her words, let alone their meaning, but after a moment he nodded. 

“She wants them to stage a coup, but in the end she will not lend them their needed support. This ferrets out the traitors, while showing me that not personally overseeing all aspects of the kingdom is a mistake.” 

He smiled a little, then, fond and exasperated. 

“I would have believed her,” Josef Sokolov said, and Danika knew that the words were not meant for her. “That frustrating, prideful, woman – I would not have doubted her for a moment.” 

He looked down to Danika and said, “How far down we have gone in these years. How far away from one another we must have all become. For it to come to this.” Josef Sokolov sighed and offered Danika a glass of wine – she drank it in a few quick gulps, and Josef Sokolov laughed before proceeding to do the same. 

“Whatever Zelenka may be doing, she is doing it for you, you _do_ know that, do you not, Josef Sokolov?” Before he could say anything, Danika continued. “And Magdalena, as well – she wants what is best for this kingdom, because she knows that is what is best for you. It is her way of showing you, I believe, that there is another way.” 

“She wishes for me to abdicate, does she not?” Josef Sokolov asked, slumping in his chair as he swirled a second glass of wine through his fingers. 

There was a little voice in Danika's head that told her to say 'yes', and let Magdalena rule, with Danika, herself, as Magdalena's most-trusted counsel – the kingdom would run smoothly, Magdalena would separate herself from Josef, leaving him free to marry Zelenka... And because Josef would have no reason to speak about their conversation to his wife, Magdalena would never have to know that Danika had betrayed her. 

“She prefers to keep your partnership intact.” She tilted her head. “Unless _you_ wish to abdicate, in which case,” Danika tilted her head, considering, “well, that can make things either easier or more difficult, depending on how you go about it.” 

“On what level do you speak for Magda?” 

Danika did not answer, and Josef Sokolov nodded as though that said everything he needed to know. But then, because Josef Sokolov could never let well enough alone, he patted Danika's shoulder again and said, “Do not worry, Danika Dvorakova, she would never let anyone speak for her – that does not mean she loves you any less.” 

He was the second person to tell Danika that the queen was in love with her. 

“She will be infuriated that I betrayed her.” In the face of Josef's omnipresent kindness, Danika could not hold in her anxiety any longer. 

“She will be angry, yes, but she will come to realize that this is a better way – a quieter way for the kingdom as a whole. I promise you this, Danika: Magda will understand.” 

Danika would have liked to share in Josef's optimism, but could not find it within herself to do so.

* * *

* * *

* * *

In the end, it was just as Josef had predicted – quiet. 

Maxim Rukovsky and eleven others were arrested in the middle of High Court three days later. In that time, Magdalena had not contacted her once, and each missive Danika sent was returned by the same cloyingly consoling emissary, unopened and most likely untouched. 

“You prevented chaos, Danika.” 

She turned to see Josef, still clad in his regalia from a long day presiding over open court, with two glasses of wine in his hands and a sympathetic smile on his lips. 

“In the end, Magda got her way. Time will tell if it is for the better in the future, but I can say with a clear head that, after everything put in front of me, it will be better than it was.” 

“It was a good idea,” Danika said, accepting the glass of wine with a grateful nod. They settled onto the balcony and looked up at the stars. “Like many things, however, it was susceptible to human greed. It can happen anywhere, in any kingdom.” 

“Maybe now we can focus on what really matters, without avarice spilling itself over into every interaction.” 

“Perhaps,” Danika said idly, swirling the dark wine around in her glass, watching as it legs slid slowly down the sides after it settled. 

('I am glad this has ended, my sister.' 

Zelenka had been practically silent as she entered their rooms, the quiet creak of the door opening the only thing giving her presence away to Danika. 

'I am sorry that you were put in the middle of it.' 

She was across the room in four long strides, and held Danika against her chest – Danika's arms wrapped around her sister, and she tried not to weep. 

'I chose the middle, Danika, but I must admit that I was not a particularly adept spy. Even if my target _was_ Josef.' Zelenka whispered the last part into Danika's ear as though it were a secret, and despite herself, Danika grinned into Zelenka's shoulder. 

'You did the best for all of us – Magdalena Sokolova included. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise, Danika, even yourself.')

“Danika Dvorakova, would you be one of my advisors?” 

Danika blinked, a little stumped at the question, and looked up at Josef, wondering what sort of joke he was playing on her. 

“Excuse me?” she asked. 

Josef smiled, took a long sip of wine just to taunt her, before he said, “Will you be one of my advisors? When deciding how to restructure the council, Magda gave me your name, and I am not inclined to disagree with her position.” 

“When was this?” Danika knew being so invested by that part of the question was inconsequential, at best, with regard to the rest of Josef's statement, but Danika could not help but hang onto that single thread as though it were a lifeline. 

“This afternoon,” Josef said, before smiling as though he knew that answer would please Danika. It absolutely did, but she kept her face placid as she took in the rest of what he said. 

“I would love nothing more than to be one of your advisors,” Danika finally said, glad that Josef had let her take the time she needed to throw the opportunity around and about in her head. 

There were many things Danika would like more than being one of Josef's advisors, but none of them were viable – most of them were, in fact, arguably worse for her than taking Josef up on his offer. Because the things she wanted were simple: be with Magdalena, a pillar behind the power, with no worry as to if the queen would find someone better. So – being Josef's advisor was probably the best she would get, if not better than she had originally thought would happen when everything had been said and done. 

“Come to the meeting, then. Tomorrow, after open court.” 

Before Danika could reply with anything more than a nod, the door to the balcony opened and Zelenka, her coat fluttering in the warm breeze, exited the suite to step out onto the balcony with them. 

“Did he ask you?” 

“Imagine, my love, if I had not. The questions your sister would have had for me.” It was teasing, and by Zelenka's wink, most likely flirting as well. Despite herself, Danika found the pair of them rather charming. 

“He asked me,” Danika confirmed, accepting the busking kiss on her cheek by an over-enthusiastic Zelenka. 

“And?” 

“What do you think, my sister?” Danika asked rhetorically, ignoring Zelenka's squeal into her ear. 

“This is what you wanted, is it not?” Zelenka whispered, and Danika was helpless to do anything but nod – because it was almost exactly what she had wanted. And 'almost' would just have to be enough.

* * *

It had been a fortnight since Danika had become one of Josef's advisors, and she felt every minute of those meager two weeks with every step she took, every breath she drew, and every meal she had to pass up in favor of studying some obscure trade treaty from two hundred and fifty years ago that seemed to bear sudden prescience to their current batch of negotiations. Her exhaustion, however, was nothing new to her, and when Tasya had arrived with a stiflingly formal missive in her hand from Magdalena, Danika was more than happy to extend her conscious hours for any sort of contact the woman would give her - even being yelled at would, at this point, be better than the careful avoidance that Magdalena had made sure to maintain in their professional interactions. Considering that Danika was now part of the Royal Council, it was a difficult task - Danika would have been impressed, had she not been desperately hoping to see Magdalena turn her way. 

"—is waiting for you, my queen." Tasya opened the door to let Magdalena into her office, all the while staring at Danika, face blank apart from the slight sneer on her lips. 

"Can I bring you anything, my queen?" Tasya asked, but Magdalena waved off her question with a disinterested hand. 

“Leave us, please, Tasya.” 

Tasya scuttled away, but Danika only dared to look into Magdalena Sokolova's eyes only when the door closed with a solid thud behind Tasya. Magdalena looked better than she had in awhile, the burden of a terrible secret no longer her cross to bear, and their own sleepless nights together no longer something Magdalena had to worry about. 

“Why did you do it?” 

Danika did not even have to think before she said, “To help us all, to make the kingdom better.” Danika paused before sighing. “But mostly for you and Zelenka.” 

“Yes, so they have told me.” 

Magdalena did not specify who 'they' were, but Danika knew exactly who she was speaking of. 

“They interfere,” Danika said, waving away their actions as best as she could, considering how tenuous this conversation seemed to be. 

“You did what was right.” The words seemed grudging, and Danika could even see the curl of Magdalena's lip that occurred whenever she spoke a truth she found in particular distaste. “I am willing to get past this, with you. Slowly – but...” Magdalena paused, then, and shook her head as though in disbelief of what she was about to say. “Danika Dvorakova, I am in love with you, and so I will forgive you.

“Is that not, after all, what those in love are intended to do?” 

She moved quickly, then, and leaned in – were it anyone else, Danika would pull back, but it was her queen, and so she leaned in closer. 

“Now,” Magdalena said, their mouths close enough that their lips brushed gently as she spoke, “in reply you say, 'Magdalena Sokolova, I love _you_.'” 

Danika grinned. 'Almost' was not good enough – not when she knew she could have 'everything'. 

“Magdalena Sokolova, I love you.” 

Magdalena's fingers tangled in the hair at the back of Danika's neck and she tilted her face up with the grip – Danika leaned up on her toes, hands braced against Magdalena's chest to keep herself steady. “Kiss me, Danika Dvorakova.” 

There was no hesitation in Danika's short movement to close the distance, kissing her with an intensity she hoped would speak for everything that had happened between them in the last few weeks. 

This was a second chance, Danika knew, and a second chance was not something that came for everybody – for both her and Magdalena, for Josef and Zelenka, this had managed to become a clean slate, a chance for all of them to work together in order to keep the kingdom of Belavana both great and mighty. 

Magdalena ended the kiss, slow, with frequent digressions to Danika's neck, and leaned their foreheads together, her free hand gliding slowly over Danika's back. 

“We must finish our discussion with Josef about Captain Svoboda.” 

“I am not sure we will be able to sway your husband on this matter.” 

Magdalena winked – it made her seem lighter, more true to her nature than she had seemed in a long while – before tapping Danika's nose. “I think we might be able to do something. But if not this battle, then the next one.

“The war is, after all, going to be ongoing for the rest of our lives.” 

Danika tried not to laugh – Magdalena would think her partnership with Josef, with the small but efficient council they had created, as a series of battles. 

“As long as, in the end, you have more wins than he does?” Danika asked, sweeping out of Magdalena's office to make her way for Josef's – if she and Magdalena did not leave now, she doubted they would leave at all. 

“Now you are understanding, Danika – this will do you well in your advising role.” 

“You are mocking me, Magdalena.” 

“I am doing no such thing. I am simply explaining the traits you have that would be beneficial in court. That you choose to take my sincerity as mocking says, I believe, more about you than it does I.” 

Danika understood, then, how Magdalena could see arguments as war – because Danika just felt as though she had lost a battle. 

* * *

(Some of the hedge garden stays intact, even years later, a small maze that lets itself twist into whatever shapes nature intended for it to become. It becomes a not-so-secret spot for four people to meet in the spring and summer, seeking the uncomplicated company when their minds need respite from the running of the kingdom. 

Despite being obviously paired off, they move with such ease around one another that it seems as though they have been in each others pockets for years. Which, they might have been, if the rumors of the court could be taken at face-value. None of the four cared to comment upon the situation, their smiles both telling it all and keeping everything a tight secret. 

“My sister is coming for the winter,” Josef says, lazily smothering a piece of bread with the fresh-whipped butter. 

“Is Edwin coming as well?” Magdalena asks, distaste coloring her tone. She and Edwin had been butting heads since they had met, and the years have done nothing to mend the relationship. 

“The children will come.” 

Zelenka grins – she is most likely already planning the various activities she can do with the children to keep them occupied when their minders are otherwise occupied in interpersonal kingdom negotiations.

“Yes, but will Edwin be coming?” 

Josef sighs, as though dealing with Magdalena were a terrible burden. “Edwin will be coming, yes – he will, however, leave before the Greenlands become impassable.” 

“Leaving Ishiff to his brother in the interim, which I am sure will end well enough, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary.” 

Zelenka laughs, trying to stifle it with the back of her hand and, when failing that, her napkin. When that, too, fails, she gives up the pretense and lies back to let herself enjoy the moment. Danika joins in after a few moments, and Josef soon thereafter – Magdalena, feeling the shift in atmosphere, lets herself lean back on her elbows and smile up at the bright sun. 

It is not perfect, but it does not have to be, because it is more than enough.)

**Author's Note:**

> xoxo


End file.
